


Fandom Acts

by hannahrhen



Category: Beauty and the Beast (TV 1987), Captain America (Movies), Furry (Fandom), Pink Floyd, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Fanfiction, Gen, Guilty Pleasures, Harassment, Humor, International Fanworks Day 2015, Kink Shaming, Little Brother Sam, M/M, Music, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Shipping, Teasing, Work Contains Fan(s) or Fandom(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:29:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Favorite characters observe, participate in, and celebrate fandom. </p><p>Filled prompts for the first annual International Fanworks Day Drabble Challenge. Multipairing, multirating, multifandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gunner's Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Doin' my part to celebrate International Fanworks Day February 15, 2015! Learn more about the [Drabble Challenge](http://transformativeworks.org/news/international-fanworks-day-drabble-challenge).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bucky + Bruce (gen)**   
> **Fandom: PInk Floyd**

Bucky heard a snippet of the lyrics as the song started up over the speaker system—” _they disembarked in forty-five, and no one spoke, and no one smiled_ —”

“What are you listening to?”

It was just polite conversation, what he was supposed to do when he visited Banner in the lab. But the reaction wasn’t normal, that line of tension that appeared in Bruce’s spine, like he only just realized what he was playing. “It’s … uh, Pink Floyd. They … uhhh,” and Banner did stammer more than most, most days, but this was—

And, Christ, he was  _still going._  “Um, I may just … “ He looked like he was stopping to think for a second. Started over. “I may just turn this off, you know. … Okay.” And he picked up his phone and started tapping into it to access the audio interface.

Weird, but, weird, Bucky was used to. “Keep it on, it’s fine.” So much for polite conversation.

“It’s just … eh, this album is a little …,” and with the hand holding the phone, Banner made a half-assed see-saw gesture. “Maybe a little intense. For, uh, you.”

Bucky snorted. Raised an eyebrow. “Really? You think I can’t handle ‘intense?’”

Banner huffed at his phone, stared at the screen for a second, and set it back down. “Yeah, okay,” he said, then, “ … Yeah. If anyone is gonna get what Roger Waters is talking about, it’s, uh, probably going to be you.”


	2. A Tale As Old as Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all Stark's frustrated boredom, there really was no explanation for what Loki had discovered him doing with his afternoon. Loki squinted at the figures on the television. “Beauty and the—?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Frostiron (Tony/Loki)**   
> **Fandom: Beauty and the Beast (1987)**

It was the eighth day Stark had been trapped on the single floor of his building, “benched” from the “team” even though Loki had healed his injuries an hour after they happened.

The Avengers were well-named—still feeling punitive about Stark’s involvement with him, of course, and happy to shut Stark out at any sign of Loki’s interference.

So Stark was annoyed, and thus irksome, but, for all his frustrated boredom, there really was no explanation for what Loki had discovered Stark doing with his afternoon. He squinted at the figures on the television. “Beauty and the—?”

“Beauty and the Beast. Sci-fi-fantasy show. 1980s.”

He watched the titular characters murmur cliched endearments at each other. The woman had large hair. So did the …  _male_? 

“The beast reminds me of my brother.”

He felt Stark peering at him. “He’s supposed to be a genetically engineered half-lion—you know— _monster_  or something.”

Loki’s answer was dry as sand. “Yes, I said he reminds me of my brother.” And he strove not to react to Stark’s chuckle.

“Fair enough.” Stark turned back to the screen. “Anyway, I fuckin’ loved this show when I was a kid. Which was just as embarrassing then as it is now, and didn’t I ask you to give me some space? To cover my shame?”

“Yes, but I agreed to that when I thought you were sulking and would therefore annoy me, not because you’re watching insipid dramas about—”

“Hey!  _Hey,_  there! Feel free to leave if you don’t like it.”

Three hours later they stopped for what Tony called a bio-break. He shot a pointed look at Loki as they both returned to the sofa. “So,” he began, and Loki could predict the rest. “What happened to ‘insipid drama?’”

Loki mustered his most practiced sigh. “I can at least keep you company during your convalescence.” He looked to the television screen as Stark began the next episode. “I only hope that the story of this beleaguered pairing has a happy ending.”

_Silence._

“Stark?”

“Well,” Stark answered finally. “We … just won’t watch the whole thing, okay?”


	3. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’re furries,” Clint explained, with air-quotes. “They get together at these things and play dress-up and use fake names—”
> 
> Bucky couldn’t resist. “Oh, really, Hawkeye?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Steve/Bucky**   
> **Fandom: Furries**
> 
> Based on [real-life events](http://arstechnica.com/the-multiverse/2014/12/19-hospitalized-at-furry-convention-due-to-seemingly-intentional-gas-leak/).

All Bucky wanted was to stay inside where it was warm, watch the lights twinkle on the real tree Steve had just insisted on getting, and drink some damned eggnog straight from the carton. If Clint hadn’t sucked it all down first.

Steve, though, just had to check the fuckin’ news today. He was squinting at the images projected on the glass screen in the wall—people in giant, pastel- and jewel-colored costumes streaming out of a hotel. Tails and ears and paws on display. Ambulance lights reflecting off every surface.

“‘Intentional’ gas attack at Chicago fan convention” was lettered under the picture.

“Why are they dressed like that?” Steve wondered aloud, and when Bucky just stalled out, Steve repeated the question to JARVIS.

“Some individuals derive enjoyment from dressing in full-size costumes to impersonate anthropomorphic animals. It’s considered a social experience,” was the simple reply, and Clint snorted.

“They’re furries,” he filled in, with air-quotes. “They get together at these things and play dress-up and use fake names—”

Bucky couldn’t resist. “Oh, really,  _Hawkeye_?”

He got an eyeball in return, and then a shrug. “And sometimes other stuff, maybe,” he said, and “other stuff” didn’t leave much to the imagination—or suddenly left a  _lot_  to the imagination. He looked at the tails and ears again. Huh.

Clint continued after seeing that Bucky had caught on: “People think it’s weird. It’s kind of the bottom rung on the—” Clint looked up and must’ve caught Steve’s expression, because his face shifted and any meaningful words trailed off. “Um,” he managed as a strategic wrap-up.

From where Bucky was standing, he couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he could see the set of Steve’s shoulders. The  _stubborn_  set of Steve’s shoulders. And Clint’s reaction was another tell.

“Bucky … ,” was all Steve said, and he turned his face back to where Bucky was standing, and that familiar profile told him the rest.

And Bucky just muttered, “Yeah— _fuck_. Okay,” and, with one last glance at the glittery tree, went to suit up.

December in Chicago. That’s what Bucky was gonna get for lovin’ a defender of the little guy (no matter how furry they were).

 


	4. SixtyNineina67

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took 15 minutes for Sam to find what Dean _thought_ he'd deleted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dean/Castiel  
>  Fandom: Dean's Dr. Sexy fannishness**
> 
> Season 10, but no real spoilers beyond Dean not knowing things don't really disappear from the Internet.

This was the thing about Dean—for all his wrong-side-of-middle-age bitching that technology wasn’t his thing, he could click a link on his damned phone and see what he got. He could do at least that.

Which was why Sam was about to text him the treasure trove he’d found after fifteen minutes of searching— _fifteen_ , Dean. Dean’s face when Sam had reminded him that nothing disappeared from the Internet? So much of a tell that, had it been poker, Sam would’ve won the whole pot.

Sam had been on it the second he had privacy, and … yep, there it was: “SixtyNineina67.”

Jesus, Dean. Think of a new username for once.

So there were twenty-three stories missing from an online archive but still salvageable through the power of the Wayback Machine:

Dr. Sexy fanfiction, with cliched titles, typo-ridden summaries, and all. Surprisingly, many of the stories were still moderately popular, despite frequent unsolicited advice to “get a beta,” and the later entries had grown a decent readership.

But it looked like the whole thing had just been purged, right after—oh, yeah, _right_  after—an anonymous user had left encouraging feedback prefaced with the greeting, “Hello, Dean.”

And while Sam wasn’t dumb enough to read anything his brother had written that he’d rated “Explicit”—well, he’d had to scan that one, the one with the catastrophic comment, which was a “work in progress” where “the doctor’s newest patient is convinced he’s an angel, but the doctor’s feelings for his charge are anything but pious.”

The patient had dark, messy hair, blue eyes, and a tendency to stare at De—at the doctor.  

Sam’s finger paused over the Send button.  

Sam wondered if Dean thought deleting the whole damned collection would somehow make what had been seen unseen. Give him plausible deniability. Wondered if this would explain why Cas had shown back up— _ohhh_ —just a few hours after the timestamp on that comment, and why Dean was, now that Sam thought of it, nowhere to be found.

And neither was Castiel.

The bunker was awfully quiet.

Sam smiled a little and set down the phone. So, okay, fine—he wouldn’t hit Send on the text.  _For now._  But, momentary lapse of little-brotherness aside, he would find the perfect time, some day, to suggest that Dean get a beta.

 


	5. Prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to "SixtyNineina67" ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dean/Castiel**   
> **Fandom: Captain America**

The three were silent after they came out of the movie theater. Sam just watched Cas and Dean pointedly not look at each other as they crossed the parking lot. The theater awesomely served beer and pizza during the movie, but Sam didn’t think the carbs were the cause of the deep thoughts and soaring awkward.

Sam, impatient, maneuvered himself between the others, jostling them with his shoulders. “So. That was intense, huh?  _Damn._  Robert Redford!”

And that successfully triggered the post-movie analysis: Steve Rogers’ missing best friend, now his enemy. Bucky being wiped—”tortured!”—in the chair (but nobody mentioned that they’d all lived through and done worse). Sam and Riley. Peggy—”oh, shit, Peggy!” The post-credits scene, where maybe,  _maybe_ Bucky remembered Steve and what had been done to him. And maybe was _gonna kick some HYDRA ass._

And then Cas— _Cas_  said, “I think Steve and Natasha would make a nice couple.”

Innocent enough, but the eyeball he got from Dean could have reduced him to cinders. Dean, who, only a few minutes before, had been downright taciturn with his thoughts, was waving his hands around wildly, all, “He fell from Steve’s arms!” and, “Did you see their faces on the helicarrier at the end?!” and, “His best friend, Cas!” and, “UNTIL THE END OF THE LINE, CAS.

“ _THE END OF THE LINE!_ ”

People around the parking lot were staring now. For that matter, so was Castiel, who had a little smile on his face.

Cas was the perfect troll when he wanted to be.

For that matter, so was Sam. “I dunno, Dean,” he prodded. “I might need some convincing. Maybe, say, an epic hurt-comfort fic? Or even an AU. Perhaps just a drabble?” He turned to walk backwards, shooting his best pointed look at his brother. “What do you think, Dean? Should somebody write that?”

And he loved how bright red Dean’s face got, and Sam peeked over just in time to see Cas’ ridiculous smile before he managed to duck his head away from Dean.

Sam turned back to Dean, smug. “I’ll even be your beta.”

Dean was just glaring between the two of them, and he finally sputtered, hopeless but still determined, “I … I don’t know what you’re ta—”

“Dean,” Sam said. “I know you don’t want to admit this but … “ He rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You need a beta.” 

And, while he earned that punch to the arm, no doubt, he also was rewarded with Dean’s grudging smirk and Cas’ intermittent chuckles on the drive home.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com)! And thank you as always for reading!


End file.
